AN: So it's been a while (nervous laughter). I'm sorry…I'm sorry…and I'm going away for the next month (hides behind laptop)…But, but, but, before you throw anything at me…I will still try to update! So don't hurt me!

Now Just incase you haven't guessed, I don't own TMI and never will.

And please for me, picture Alex Pettyfer as Jace, just a little more inked and pierced. You can use anyone you want for Clary.

Ok, to the story…

Her sneakers slapped faster and faster against the pavement as she ran. Her breaths were coming faster and there was a burning in her lungs, but she ignored it and pressed on harder that before.

She had to get away.

Away from the place she had called home for so long. Away from the memories. Away from the pain, but most of all, away from him. It was his fault she was like this; her red hair waving behind her like a rebel flag as she ran. Her father. How could she even call him that, he had stopped being a father to her a long time ago? She can still remember her mothers laugh and the way her father's smile would reach his eyes and make the skin around them wrinkle like a washing board. But, those days were gone. They had ceased to exit when her mother did.

They called it an accident. Just like they had said about her brother.

"Terrible sorry Miss." the officer had said. "She slipped on a patch of ice and her breaks failed."

What they didn't know is that she had seen daddy coming out of the garage with a strange piece of metal in his hands and a wicked smile on his face. What they didn't know is that she had seen daddy pouring butter on the stairs earlier this year, on the same day that Jonathan took that fall down the stairs that ended his life. She knew that her life hung on a thread, and it all depended on if she could please daddy or not.

She knew the only reason she had not had an accident yet, was because daddy said she was pretty. He had said it more that once. Daddy also said that she looked just like her mother and it was good she wasn't 'fucking that no-good-son-of-a-bitch' like her mother too. So she took every beating and every fuck like a good little girl in hopes that she wouldn't die too.

Oh, she knew she wasn't really pretty and it was only the whiskey that was talking when her daddy said she was. All the other times she was fat and ugly and not her mother. So, she started experimenting. She had read books about people who liked to throw up everything they ate to look skinny. She tried it, but she was still fat to her father and an ugly bitch to her friends. She couldn't stop. Then she read a book about a girl who liked to watch her blood run down her wrist and how it made her happy. She tried it, but it didn't help. Just like the drugs she took, it only worked for a little bit and them she was back in reality, sadder than before. And it was addictive, the more she did it, the more she had to do it each time to get the happy feeling.

So she tried one more thing. She had read about a house, a house where girls worked to please men and got happy because of it. She wanted to find that house and get the happy feeling that she couldn't get anymore because drugs were too expensive. When she did find it, she was happy for the first time in a long time. Other people thought she was pretty and sexy, and they wanted her. She hadn't been wanted in so long. So she did the business and never realized how much she missed being loved. The men were the same, just like daddy. Old and seeing stars five minutes into the run, after screaming about how fucking tight she was. And they hit her, but that was ok, because it made her feel more at home.

But, there was one boy that was different from all the rest. He was young.

"Nineteen." He had once told her.

She liked to think of him as her angel. Her golden angel. And the name suited him. He had gold locks that were unruly and perfect for her to dig her fingers in. His golden eyes pierced her and made her want to trust him. It made her happy that he always asked for her. Not Isabelle, the girl with raven locks, piercing blue eyes and a HBIC attitude that drew men to her like flies to honey. Not Kaelie, the blonde goddess that had 38DD's and legs that went on forever before turning into feet that strapped into those fuck-me-heels men loved her to wear. No, the angel wanted her.

She had asked him what she should call him once.

He had answered, "Just call me Jace."

Sometimes, she would imagine that Jace wanted her. Really, wanted her. That he took her away from the house and took her to his house. That she and Jace would live together, growing old and being true to each other. That he had told her why he had so many scars and the stories behind them. That he told her about every bit of ink and every piercing he had. She imagined Jace telling her he loved her. It was at that point in her life that she had never felt so alone.

So she was running. Away from the house and her sisters, because she was alone. She had heard Jace's address when he told his brother, Alec, he had moved and was done with the college thing. After her last customer had left, for a little while at least, she had packed what things she had brought to the house and ran. She wanted to tell Jace she loved him, and if he didn't love her back, well, she was handy with a knife and could survive on the streets.

She stopped when she saw his house. She had always been shy, but she knew she couldn't be shy now. She walked up the walk and knocked on the door. She heard a muffled 'Just a minute' and almost balked. But them she remembered Jace, and the future she could have with him. The door opened to show a very pissed off angel.

But his expression was wiped off his face his face and was replaced by shock.

'I love you, Jace."

"Clary." He breathed. Then he opened the door wider, stepped out of the way, and let her in.

REVIEW

Oh, and I'm gonna post a poll, asking if anyone wants me to do Jace's side of this story, so just vote. Thanks!

-Jane-